Well…this is exciting! I haven't posted a new fic in FOREVER, much less anything like TS. Normally I just write one-shots, but this is going to be something BIG- nearly 230k words and 625 pages over 3 fics, to be exact. I already have all 3 written and edited (I hate unfinished fics, so I didn't want to start uploading until I was sure I'd finish it) so if you like this first chapter, stay with me- I'll try to format/edit AGAIN/post new chapters every other day or so.

I rise at dawn, treading carefully through the house to avoid waking Mom and Prim. It's Reaping Day- they ought to sleep in. I'm quiet as I leave town, too- technically, I am breaking curfew- but once I duck under the hardly-ever-active electric fence, I'm free.

I grab my bow from the hollow tree and settle down to wait for Gale. I'm certain he won't be long- he's never late, and I suspect the only reason he might be today is a younger sibling with a nightmare. He has three of them, and Reaping Day always puts the young ones on edge. Me, I'm past that. It's never myself I worry for anymore.

Sure enough, he sits down next to me only a few minutes later. We won't be idle for long- we both have families to feed- but I enjoy having Gale beside me, quietly enjoying each other's presence.

Gale is my best friend, one of few people I can trust completely. We met when we were both children, after our fathers had been killed in a mineshaft explosion, and we, as the eldest, had to become our families' providers. I taught him to shoot, and he taught me to make snares, and before long, we settled into the rhythm of hunting as a team.

By now, Gale and I are both more than competent enough to hunt on our own. Sometimes we do. But we are better as a pair: we watch each other's backs, we alternate shooting and flushing out prey, and it's a lot easier to drag a deer back to town with two people. Take it from me.

But we're not just hunting partners: we're friends. Sometimes, even more than friends, it feels like. Gale has a girl back in town, but I don't think I'm imagining the way he looks at me sometimes. And I know I'm not imagining my heart's flutter when he looks at me that way. We understand each other so well. We have been through so much together.

"How would you feel about tracking down some pheasants?" Gale asks.

I nod. "What better way to celebrate your last Reaping?"

Gale is eighteen. This is the last time he'll be eligible for the certain death known as the Hunger Games. I guess there's no market for watching adults fight to the death- teenagers only.

"Well, when you put it that way, let's see about bringing down a deer."

I roll my eyes as I get up and brush the grass off my leggings. "In the middle of summer? I wouldn't count on it."

"Hey, you never know."

I suppose that's the name of the game for this whole day. With the Reaping, you just really never know.

§

In the end, there is no deer, but we do bring down a trio of pheasants. I clean the birds while Gale cleans the arrows, and we both pick blackberries. Gale pops one into his mouth every couple handfuls, whereas I can't imagine eating a single bite right now.

"Aren't you nervous?" I ask.

"About the Reaping?" When I nod, he shrugs. "Sure. But what am I gonna do about it?"

"We could take off into our woods, and eat like this every day of the year."

He laughs. "I can't imagine little Primrose sleeping out in the woods."

"Our house is drafty enough. It's not that different."

Gale throws another blackberry into the air and catches it in his mouth. "I think it's different. But if it was just you and me, we'd be fine."

"I know we would." For a moment, my heart aches for it: a different universe, where I don't have to worry about Mother and Prim, where it could just be Gale and I against the world, hunting and gathering and sleeping under the stars.

A universe where Gale's town girlfriend didn't exist…

I shake my head. "We ought to get back. I have to stop at the Hob before I go home."

"And I want to go by Madge's." The town girl- the mayor's daughter. "I'll see you at the Reaping, Catnip."

I half-smile. Gale is the only one who ever calls me Catnip. "We won't be anywhere near each other."

"Sure, but I'll look for you."

"Then I'll look for you too."

We divide up the pheasants and the berries and go our separate ways. The sun is fully up; District Twelve is alive. And today- Reaping Day- is arguably the busiest day of the year. The public market is bustling, and the Hob- our black market, tucked away in an abandoned warehouse- is even busier. I push my way through the crowd and pick up two bottles of Ripper's famous white liquor, but they're not for me. They're for Haymitch, our resident cranky old drunk. He's perfectly capable of making the walk to the Hob, but he's been banned from the establishment. This baffles me. I know no one else who can claim that. I can't even imagine the level of misconduct it takes to be banned from the black market.

I don't really mind playing delivery girl, though. He pays me well, and he seems harmless to me, although. I know he's not actually harmless. Haymitch won the Hunger Games, so he's killed people. But that was twenty years ago. With the beer gut and slurred speech, I can't imagine him harming anyone now.

He's sullen when he opens the door. He looks down his nose at the liquor, while still snatching the bottles from my hand. "Where's the rest of it?"

"You're leaving tonight; two bottles should see you through."

"This won't even see me through the next six hours. Get out of here, girl!"

I stand my ground- I'm not scared of Haymitch, no matter what he might have been in the past. "You need to pay me."

He mutters a couple curses under his breath before throwing the coins at me and slamming the door. I heave a sigh and pick up my earnings. Some days, I wonder if this job is worth it.

But, there is something very nice about bringing home a good meal, plus money to put towards the next one. I sling my game bag over my shoulder and jog back home.

I hear voices in the kitchen- Mother and Prim are up now, good. But it's not just them, I quickly realize- I hear a man speaking as well, and since my father's been dead for years, there's only one person it could be: Peeta.

Other than Gale, Peeta is my best friend. We've been close for years, although I try not to think of the circumstances in which we met. When my father died five years ago, my mother fell into a deep depression, and it was up to me to feed the family. This was before I was clever enough to go out into the woods. After trying to sell everything we had left for food, I had given up and started rummaging in trash bins. Peeta saw me, and he took a beating in order to sneak me food that night. He saved all of us from starving.

It was a huge blow to my eleven-year-old pride to approach him at school the next day and say 'thank you', but we've been friends ever since. He still brings us bread and bakery treats once in a while, but I no longer feel guilty for taking them- I know Peeta needs us too. He's spent many a day at our house, simply to get away from his witch of a mother.

"I'm home!" I yell as I kick off my boots. Prim runs in to hug me, and I'm not surprised to see she has half a cookie in her mouth. "Did Peeta bring those?"

Prim laughs. "Well, who else?"

Prim adores Peeta, and she has charmed him as well. In fact, if I don't feel like using Peeta's name, I can call him 'Prim's Sweetheart' and most people know who I'm talking about.

"I made her leave some for you, don't worry," says Peeta, hovering in the doorway.

I haven't been hungry all day, but there is something appealing about sugar cookies. "Thanks for always looking out for me, Peeta," I joke, starting towards the kitchen.

Prim clears her throat. "Shouldn't you be getting ready, Katniss?"

"Shouldn't you?" I retort.

"I am ready!" Prim gestures to her white blouse and gray skirt, one of the few outfits she owns that is dressy enough for the Reaping.

"Well, your shirt's hanging out in the back; you look like a duck," I inform her. "So I think I have time to eat some breakfast."

"It is?!" she exclaims, reaching back to feel the duck tail. "I checked it, I swear!"

"I don't know what to tell you, Prim."

She runs off, presumably to look in a mirror. My path to the kitchen is unobstructed. "Thank you," I say quietly to Peeta, once I've eaten half the cookie. "First of all, these are delicious. But mostly, they're keeping Prim's mind off…you know."

He shrugs. "I wish someone had made me cookies the day of my first Reaping. I was terrified."

"Your brothers were psyching you out?"

"Not exactly."

I know what he means. I pause, not knowing what to say. Peeta's home life is one of those things that we all know about, but rarely talk about. How do you even address something like that?

Luckily, he just moves on. "I hope Prim has a better time than I did. She doesn't have anything to worry about."

I think he says that for my benefit. Peeta knows me well enough to know I'd be worrying about Prim- hearing her name would be the only thing worse than hearing my own. "It could be her, though."

"She's just one in thousands."

"It could be any one of us." I swallow hard. Suddenly, the sugar cookie feels rock hard in my stomach. Maybe I shouldn't have eaten after all.

"Katniss!" I hear my mother call from across the house. "Are you ready yet?"

I'm sure she knows the answer is 'no'. I look to Peeta apologetically. "I'd better go."

"I'll see you at the Reaping, then," he says. "Good luck."

Luck from Peeta doesn't make me feel any better. Truly, there is nothing he can do.

§

I bathe and put on one of Mom's old dresses. It's soft and blue- far nicer than any of my own clothes. She's never let me wear anything of hers before. Her clothes from her town days, before she married a coal miner and sentenced herself to the Seam, are something she guards very carefully. Otherwise, I would have traded them for food years ago.

Mother and I haven't been on good terms for a long time. Not since she fell apart and I, age eleven, had to take over feeding the family. Perhaps she wishes things were different now. I know I do.

"You look wonderful," she says when I step into the room. "Let's do your hair."

I wrinkle my nose. "Isn't a braid good enough?"

"It wouldn't do the dress justice."

Obviously, that is what's important. Not worth an argument, though. I sit down and do my best to hold still as she braids, re-braids, and twists my hair into something more appropriate.

I'm stunned when I look at my reflection. I don't look like someone who spent the morning foraging in the woods. In fact, I don't look like myself at all.

"Thank you," I say. But that is all.

It's time to leave, and Prim is still sitting on the foot of her bed, her stinky old cat, Buttercup, curled up in her lap. Her shirt has been re-tucked, and her golden-blonde hair is in a pair of neat braids, at least.

"We should probably start walking, Little Duck," I tell her, but I sit down beside her. Buttercup hisses and stalks off- he and I have never gotten along.

"What'll they do if we just don't show up?" Prim asks with a sniffle.

"They'll come by tonight and throw us in jail." Or kill us, I add mentally. "Could you really do that to Mother? She'd hate having a criminal record."

"What if one of us gets picked?"

"We won't. That kind of thing always happens to somebody else."

"But it has to be someone. It could be us. You have to at least think about it."

I can't tell her the truth- I have thought about it. I've agonized over it and lost sleep over the very idea of my little sister in the Hunger Games. She can't know scared I really am. "Truthfully, Prim, it's better not to think about it. Just know that I'm looking out for you, and if anything were to happen to me, Gale-"

"Don't talk like that." Prim gets up suddenly and tugs on my hand. "Let's just leave, okay?"

It seems I have failed at cheering her up. I really should leave this sort of thing to Peeta. And his stockpile of sugar cookies.

We walk to the square in silence. Mother hugs both of us- something she doesn't normally do- and Prim and I are sent off to check in. The finger prick isn't a big deal to me, but Prim squeaks and wraps her finger in her skirt.

Now we have to go our separate ways. I take a deep breath, knowing how important it is that I hold it together right now. "You know where you're supposed to stand, right?"

Prim nods.

"Good. I'll come find you right after."

"Unless one of us gets picked," she whispers, and she throws her arms around me, as if I might be able to change what's about to happen.

I swallow hard and hold her for just a moment. But, we need to fall in with the crowd, and I step back. "Right after. I'll find you. Promise."

Prim finds a place in the group of other twelve-year-old girls, and I squeeze in with the sixteen-year-olds. I'm not very tall, but I crane my neck and look around for Gale. I'd promised I would, hadn't I? Gale is tall, but there are dozens of tall, dark-haired, olive-skinned boys in his section, so it still takes me a bit to pick him out, in his crisp white dress shirt that surely won't stay white for long with all the coal dust in the air.

He's already looking at me. I don't dare wave- there are more Peacekeepers around than ever, and any sign of 'unruliness' could be met with violence- but I hold his gaze for a moment. A shiver runs down my spine, and I'm not sure if it's because of Gale's steel gray eyes or the knowledge that the Reaping is about to start.

The anticipation is almost worse than the actual event. The Capitol woman who runs this miserable affair, Effie Trinket, totters onstage in maroon high heels that leave her towering over Haymitch, District Twelve's only living victor. Haymitch is also tottering. I guess he made use of the white liquor I sold him.

"Welcome, welcome!" Effie sings out. Her voice is chipper, but I'm sure she's looking down her nose at everyone in Twelve. We are the poorest district, the lowest on the totem pole. It's embarrassing for her to be assigned here, honestly. "How lovely you all look today! Now, let's begin."

She makes a speech about the glory of the Capitol- pretty sure that's supposed to be the mentor's job, but Haymitch is clearly incapacitated- and we have to watch a film on the Dark Days and the reason we have the Hunger Games. As if any of us could ever forget. My stomach is in knots; I'm desperate for this nightmare to be over so I can go back to Prim. I'm so much more worried for her than me, even though I'm at much greater risk.

Finally, Effie approaches the first of two enormous glass bowls. She reaches her arm into the first one, shuffling around the thousands of slips of paper. "Ladies first!" she cries, as she pulls one out.

I hold my breath. I try to resign myself to the possibility that it could be me, drafted into the death arena, or even worse, it could be Prim. But it's not. It's neither of us.

It's Madge Undersee.

I feel a stab of relief at first, grateful that it isn't Prim or me, but it fades quickly. Madge Undersee. In addition to being the mayor's daughter, a child who's supposed to be protected by the unfair system, Madge is Gale's girlfriend.

"Madge Undersee?" Effie trills from up front. "Come on now; don't be shy! This is an honor!"

An honor, sure. Maybe that's true in District Two, but here in Twelve, being reaped is exclusively a death sentence.

The sea of girls (myself included) parts around Madge, and she has no choice but to take the stage. I think she's already crying, but her dead eyes stare straight ahead now. I swallow hard. I've always been jealous of Madge: for her family's wealth, for how Gale clearly adored her, for the way she never had to wonder if she'd be fed each night. Now I just feel sorry for her.

Haymitch shakes her hand once she's onstage. "Now this is interesting!" he bellows. Even from my position, towards the back, I can see the spittle flying out of his mouth. "Did any of you think this would happen? I sure didn't!"

I wince. So does Effie Trinket, but she's blessed with indescribable grace under pressure, so she just moves on. "And now for the boys!"

She plunges her hand into the second sphere. I'm still too shocked by Madge Undersee to worry or process what she's doing now. That's a mistake. The name Effie reads is "Gale Hawthorne".

Hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Feedback is always welcome, although like I said, this fic is fully written so I'm not going to change stuff just because you don't like it. Also, be gentle with me. I'm not used to taking criticism on my writing, constructive or otherwise.